Dear Darling, Can I Have My Heart Back?
by scntlla
Summary: "You fool, I never took it from you in the first place."


Tharja doesn't have a lot of time to waste. At least, that's what she says to everyone who tries to waste it. Between working on her black magic pursuits and trying to win Robin's fancy, she's too busy to worry about anything else.

Even Henry, her fellow Plegian and dark mage, is looked upon with disdain.

It doesn't stop him from bothering her, though, because of course it doesn't.

"Go away," she says. "I'm busy."

"Aw, but it's important," he whines. He always whines, in one way or another. His smile is a terrible aside. "Please?"

A sigh. She gets headaches if she argues with him for too long, so she gives in. "What is it?"

"Can I please have my heart back?"

"You fool, I never took it from you in the first place."

He almost frowns, and she wishes he would do so, if only she can witness his face making a different expression and nothing else. "But it's gone! And it's not with me, so the only place I can think of it being is with you!"

"I have no use for human hearts," she insists. "Let alone _yours _in particular."

"Then—"

"You're out of luck." She glares. "So _scram._"

He's gone before she can even threaten to curse him.

/

/

Henry doesn't like not being able to know where things are. That's why he has a Risen collection, so he can keep count of his body count, or why he hoards old spell books even though the pages are all worn out. Where else would he keep all this information, otherwise?

So why is his heart gone? And why won't Tharja, the one woman who has experience in matters like these, try to help him recover it?

"When you say your heart is gone," Ricken says, "what exactly do you mean?"

"It's just _gone,_" Henry groans, and feels his chest over with his awfully bony hands. "Like, it's not _there. _No heartbeat or anything."

"W-Wouldn't you be dead?!" Ricken nearly cries out, and Henry resists the urge to sigh. As good of a friend and sweet of a boy as he may be, he's brain-dead when it comes to black magic. "How is that even possible?"

"It has to be," Henry insists. "Wanna feel my chest to find out?"

"No thank you. Sorry about this, but I have to go—"

Ricken is gone sooner than Henry can explain that he's just kidding.

/

/

"You took my heart and if you don't give it back, I'll have to challenge you to a wizard duel!"

"A, a _what?" _

"Nothing, just something I made up. Seriously, give it back, though."

"Henry, I'm going to count to five. And if you are still in my sights after that, I will curse you with every fiber of my being."

"I can un-curse anything you cast, you know!"

"I'll run you through with this sword I found. Un-curse _that, _you Gods-forsaken idiot."

"Yikes! Someone's having a bad day! No, don't tell me, your heart is gone too?!"

A minor explosion goes off in the Shepherds' camp that day. They're both in trouble and Tharja regrets provoking him, since they end up on the same night patrol as a punishment.

Henry smiles all the while.

Of _course _he does.

/

/

"I figured it out, Henry." Tharja is as close to ecstatic as she can be, placing herself next to him. "Your body is cold, and you're having trouble making decisions. The emotional knowledge within you is _gone, _so it's like someone stole your heart."

He shivers at the mere mention of her words. "Ya think so?"

"Yes. I can reverse it."

"Then what are we waiting for? Give me back my heart, you selfish woman!"

"Here," she mutters, while holding a dead rabbit against her chest. "And don't say I never do anything for you."

"Hehe, I won't!"

Moments later, and Henry sighs deeply. He feels lighter, happier, somehow. Tharja smiles at her small victory.

"Well then," she says. "I'm on my way now. You've successfully obtained your 'heart' once more. Congrats, Henry."

"Thanks."

She leaves him where she found him: by the raging campfire on a lone tree stump.

Long after she's gone, Henry makes a horrible realization.

He still feels cold.

/

/

"Henry, I don't have your heart," she groans. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but _please _leave me alone."

"I can't," he merely says. "You still got it."

"I do _not! _I reversed the spell long ago! So you can just—"

"You have my heart," he insists, stepping towards her. She never noticed how much taller he was than her, or how warm his breath is up close.

Wait, warmth?

He goes on to say, "It's right _here,_ in the palm of your hands." And Henry is usually a cold, fragile thing, but his skin is _blazing _and firm as he runs his hands over hers, grasping at her delicate fingers.

He brings them up to his lips and kisses them.

She burns. "Y-You...what are you trying to say?!"

"I'll give you my heart if you give me yours."

That's a dangerous exchange, she thinks. Tharja has worked for others before, trading secrets and money in return for her services. She has cursed and cast and resurrected more things than she can count, none of which have been very pleasant. She obsesses over Robin—fantasizes about a life with them even when they're long since married to the Ylissean Prince, himself—and thinks herself above others, so she's never had the chance to consider other..._options _before.

But Henry is different from the others. He has the right mix of blood lust, craziness, and loyalty, to boot. He matches her in so many ways, but differs all the same. They're both so, so cold, yet she can't help imagining the sun when he's around.

She can't help but wonder what kind of light he'd let into her life.

She takes him by the arm, pressing his body closer to hers. Her hand resting on his chest, his hand lingering by her lips.

She smiles. "I never _took_ your heart, you know."

_I've had it all along. _


End file.
